


The Morning After Amnesia

by Eye_Of_Argonia



Category: Hellblazer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2811251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eye_Of_Argonia/pseuds/Eye_Of_Argonia





	The Morning After Amnesia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pasiphile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pasiphile/gifts).



_Bollocks._

It was far from the first time John Constantine woke up in unknown surroundings, but it wasn't one of those things that improve with repeats.

These particular circumstances were a novelty, though. John’s choice of beds to wake on was usually seedier than posh hotel suites. He scratched his back as he sat up. The room was completely empty of anything but furniture that came with it and John’s discarded clothes. There was no note on the pillow or bedside table - not that he expected one.

He reached for his Silk Cuts.

There was no ashtray.

_Strewth._

He lit one anyway and began to get dressed.

* * *

He gave into the curiosity over the instinct to run away before being asked to explain himself. But the thorough investigation of the room yielded not even a stray hair that wasn't his. Only traces of musky and spicy cologne and an impression of head slightly smaller than John’s on one of the pillows. None of his belongings seemed to be missing - not that he was able to remember if he carried anything outside of usual last night. All that he remembered was a side street and stopping in front of what looked as an entrance to a club, and even that was fuzzy.

He reached for the door knob.

That pillow _called_ , and John’s gut turned.

_Fuck._

* * *

Trying to walk away from the hotel inconspicuously was much harder when trying to conceal a pillow in your trenchcoat. The bloody thing looked like anything but proper layer of fat.

He decided against checking the info at the reception. He could always take a risk later, if other means of research failed like his memory of previous night had.

He managed to arrive home in one piece, the cabbie - like a true veteran - barely sparing a glance at his pillow.

It was still there, mockingly white in grime of what John currently called home, still smelling of expensive juice, but with outline of the head long gone thanks to rough handling. John attempted to trace it based on the memory, and something fluttered at the edge of the consciousness.

He removed his coat and sat cross-legged onto the floor. He placed the pillow in front of him and closed his eyes.

John was never much into meditation, but he figured he could try a trick or two he heard of before bargaining with something more dangerous for uncertain information.

At first, there were only flutters. After a while, some froze and stayed that way for a longer time. Some grouped into a sequence. Skin, golden-toned, not his. Laughter, not high or low enough to know whose. Glossy, dark hair - short, perhaps. Loud music and low lights. The outside of the bar.

John focused harder on the last part.

He came back to the reality doubled over, his face buried into the pillow. He had a name, at least.

* * *

The leather-clad bouncer at the entrance recognised him.

“‘Ello there. Looking for that fine piece of ass you went away with last night? Sorry, luv, he’s not here yet.”

“Right,” said John. _At least it will make the search easier._ “You know when he usually comes?” _He, definitely a he, he could tell now that he got a good look at the place._ “We talked a repeat performance, but couldn't settle on a date.” He pulled out a bill.

“Sure, I can tell ya when he usually comes here,” the bouncer replied.

John didn't resist when the man reached over and pulled the money from his grip. The bouncer leered, then shuffled back and said: “And the answer is: never. Never seen him before the last night.”

After a few moments of silence, the bouncer sniffed, likely disappointed that John didn't do anything harder than glare at him.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” he added, “‘cause he might have gone with you that night but he came with a tall blond. That one went away with Tommy last night, but who know what it’s about. Don’t wanna get caught up in private love games and all.”

John scowled, muttering a quick Welsh curse as a parting gift. The worst thing was that the bastard seemed to be telling the truth.

* * *

John was once again in front of that hotel, the pillow stuffed in a paper bag. He didn't have a plan and forgot to write down the room number. He was mulling over the plan of attack when a gasp drew his attention.

His eyes met kohl-lined dark blue, and he remembered.

_John wasn't sure what brought him here. Usually he wasn't much for that kind of scene, not since those brief few months between life with hippies and Mucous Membrane. Oh, there was that back over the pond, but that was a special case and not quite like this anyway. But he had nothing better to do and it had been a while. Might as well see if anyone would pick him up, as unkempt as he was._

_He was nearly finished with his third drink when the stranger approached._

_He was a pretty, probably twenty-something young thing - not illegally-looking, not John’s thing, no matter what bastards at the prison said - in form-fitting black from head to toe. He smiled and licked his lips._

_John looked around, but there was no one next to him. No way, he thought._

_The lovely stranger perched on the chair next to him, still silent, eyes still trained on John._

_John cleared his throat. It’s not that he forgot the protocol, but this was bizarre. He checked himself: same old rumpled coat, same old scuffed shoes. Maybe the kid was high. Or on a dare._

_“Since you don’t seem to be the one to stand on ceremony, may I be direct?” spoke the stranger after a few more uncomfortable moments._

_“Sure,” was all that John could say to that._

_“I have a room nearby, which I would prefer to the arrangements around here. You can have whatever you want, as long as it won’t leave permanent marks and you finish up my arse. Sounds good?”_

_John blinked, then glared at his drink. Someone must have slipped him something._

_The stranger touched his hand - touched John for the first time. He said nothing more, just smiled._

_It was suspicious as hell, but John figured his feet brought him there tonight for a reason._

* * *

_Despite being given permission, John didn't feel like doing anything extraordinary. He usually preferred being on the receiving end when with boys - asking an average girl hookup to put on something extra was more likely to be a miss than a hit. Not that the end result was bad - unless the request got him kicked out, which is why he rarely did it - but he liked some variety. But the stranger stated his terms, and he accepted._

_The boy’s skin was gleaming and unblemished save for oddly-shaped tattoos. John didn't have the time to study them, not with the other one hooking surprisingly strong legs around his waist and drawing him closer to grind their crotches together. He bit on the stranger's nipple in retaliation, then sloppily traced his tongue down his partner’s body while removing his clothes. Since the other one went commando, there was little else to do but dive onto the already hard cock. After licking and sucking all the right places, he tried a bit of the teeth. The boy squirmed, so he did it again._

_He reached with lubricated hand that wasn't working the cock down to the hole and met something hard and cold. His pause caused a whine, but he couldn't stop himself from dropping everything to investigate._

_It seemed to be a butt plug. With delicate carvings on it, at that._

_“Well, someone was prepared,” said John._

_“Yes,” the other gasped. “Now, please, continue.”_

_John remembered himself and gave the stranger’s cock a few tugs, working the plug out with the other hand. It came out with little struggle._

_Further niceties seemed to be pointless, so he prepared himself and went in. The plug wasn't that big, so he took it slowly. On the top of everything else, his partner was damn good at controlling his muscles - John could feel him relaxing as he went in. He still gave a few slow strokes out of courtesy before beginning to pick up the speed. The stranger pulled up his legs, and John held his hips, angling him for better access. It didn't take them long to come, John once again stroking the other’s cock while riding him to completion. He hit his own high, than blacked out._

When the vision ended, John found himself sitting in the foyer of the hotel, with the stranger from the vision next to him, holding his hands and grinning.

“Oh, I knew you were powerful,” he said, kohl-rimmed eyes sparkling, “but I could have never imagined...you just broke the memory charm, didn't you?”

John frowned and tugged his hands away.

The stranger was still smiling. “I apologise, but I wasn't sure how to ask for your assistance. I didn't know if you were even aware of your potential. Many aren't.”

“Well, I am,” said John, gruffly, “and possibly have much better grasp on it than you do, kid.”

“I am sorry, then. I needed to perform this as a part of a little experimental ritual, you see.”

“Experimental?” John frowned.

“Oh, nothing dangerous. Really, Just a theory. About what would work better. A little tweaking. So far, my picks seem to have been correct.” He reached out and caressed John’s knee.

“That’s all you have to say for yourself?”

The stranger shrugged. “I can make amends. No funny business this time around.”

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But it has been so long, not since Stanley business - and that was different, so little to do with actual lust, just going with the flow, no mystery on his end.

“I’ll take you somewhere else, then, as soon as I check out this room once again,” said the stranger.

“Why should I believe you there would be no strings attached?”

The stranger shrugged. “It’s over, and if you’d take a chance and disrobe me, you’ll notice no preparations.

Come to think of it, last night’s tats - or what John should have been able to see of them - were missing. So was all of the dried semen, when he inspected the room this morning. And all the usual traces of magic.

It was suspicious as hell.

“What of your tall blond friend?” said John.

“Oh, him.” The stranger waved his hand. “He’s probably wallowing in his failure. Remember what I said about the experiment? He was running the same one. But he picked his partner for the night according to pedestrian guidelines. I was on the lookout for someone with _power_.” He licked his lips.

“Power, huh.”

“Never saw something like it.”

“You must be new.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He rose, extending his hand to John.

“If there’s no funny business, I suppose you won’t mind the role reversal.”

The stranger smiled again. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

* * *

The stranger brought him to another hotel. This time, they took it slowly. John was usually not the one for intimacy, but he figured he could inspect the other under pretext of helping him with unreachable spots. No tats, no plug. Nothing out of ordinary, and no alcohol and who-else-knows-what in his system either.

When they finished drying, the stranger suddenly kissed him. No play, no tenderness - it was as if though he wanted to devour John. _Power. He gets off on power. Or is it only that?_ Warning bells were ringing at the edge of his consciousness, but not loud enough. He chose to ignore them for a while.

They made their way toward the bed.

“How do you want it,” asked the stranger, in-between open-mouthed kisses down John’s shoulder and neck.

“I think on my hands and knees will do. My body isn't that flexible.”

“Aw. Maybe I should massage you.”

“If you want to risk me falling asleep.”

The stranger chuckled. “No, that won’t do, would it?”

He kissed John briefly. “But there’s no need to put so much strain on your limbs either. Here.” He grabbed a large pillow.

“That’ll do,” said John.

“Well, then,” the stranger said, reaching for the bedside drawer.

John positioned himself, leaving some space between the pillow and his pelvis for a helping hand to sneak into.

His partner had the thoughts along the same lines, reaching for John’s cock with a slicked hand as soon as he settled. John relaxed and focused on the sensation. A few slow tugs, then firm and constant rhythm as he grew harder, then coolness around his hole. It has been really long since the last time, and John never took to toys. It took a while before his partner was able to work him enough that penetration wouldn't be unbearable. It was fortunate that John wasn't averse to a little bit of pain, if properly applied.

And his stranger might not have known who and what John was, but he sure knew all about proper application. He worked him like a pro - it’s been ages since he had _that_ \- so good he hadn't wilted at all when the cock stretched him.

John sensed the other’s hesitation and cut the question off before it came. “I’m good. Move.”

The stranger was still careful, smoothing one hand down John’s spine while working his cock with the other.

“I’m not made of glass. Just do it.” He did his best to push back for a good measure.

That did it, and his partner picked it up. John moved with him for a while, until the pressure in his arse and on his cock became too much and he leaned his weight onto the pillow. The stranger picked up the slack, speeding up both his cock and his hand, then biting John’s shoulder which earned him a groan.

The hand worked John unrelentingly throughout his orgasm, leaving him thoroughly drained if conscious this time around. The stranger kissed the base of John’s neck sloppily as his own movements went out of control and he spilled inside.

* * *

This morning, John’s body was cleaned but there were actual tells of sex having taken place. And there was a note, too.

_”See you again.”_


End file.
